


Disobedience

by trollmela



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Cousin Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-09
Updated: 2012-12-09
Packaged: 2017-11-20 16:35:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/587475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trollmela/pseuds/trollmela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maitimo was not obedient. He was not the perfect son. He was an elf in love with his cousin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disobedience

“Quiet,” Maitimo hissed. Even drunk he had more sense than his lover.

Findekáno, however, was even more drunk. He merely laughed softly into Maitimo’s neck, nibbling it with his teeth and swiping his tongue across the skin every so often, trying to thoroughly distract Maitimo. It nearly worked, too.

The spring feast inside carried on, oblivious to two grandsons of High King Finwë necking in the hallway behind a convenient column. Both smelled of wine, but they weren’t doing this for the first time, nor because of too much wine.

Findekáno’s hips seemed to fit perfectly into Maitimo’s palms, and his lover’s hands were warm beneath his tunic. They slid down beneath his leggings and caressed his buttocks. Maitimo growled, leant down and captured the other elf’s mouth. They moaned as their tongues explored each other’s mouths, forgetting all about the festival.

Maitimo grasped Findekáno beneath his upper thighs and lifted him up against the wall, his lover’s legs winding around his waist. Findekáno was hard against his belly, and so was he. They should go look for a room to make love. But it could wait, Maitimo thought, first he had to slake his thirst...

And then a noise was heard behind them, an elf drawing in breath in shock and shouting:

“Maitimo! Findekáno!

Arousal was replaced by horror. Findekáno jumped to the floor, Maitimo swung around.

“Grandfather!” He breathed.

He didn’t think he had ever seen Finwë look so furious before.

* * *

If it was even possible, Fëanáro managed to look even more angry.

“My first-born son bedding his own cousin!” He seethed. "Nolofinwë's son!"

The relationship between Fëanáro and his brothers was still strained. Most likely, he would have shouted less if Maitimo had bedded a stable boy. And perhaps he was still inebriated, as he said exactly that.

"But you're not bedding a stable boy!" Fëanáro bellowed. "You are my firstborn son; you ought to settle down with a wife!"

"I suppose that I shall always remain a disappointment to you then," Maitimo returned calmly. He had gotten used to the thought since finding that he had little talent for the forge and Curufinwë did. "I love Findekáno. You cannot change that."

"Oh yes I can," Fëanáro said, his voice low and deadly. "I **forbid** you from seeing Findekáno until I deem otherwise!"

Maitimo did not react to the judgement, taking it in silently, all the while in his mind he was already planning to find ways to get around it.

His father's gaze bore into his; Fëanáro was no fool, and Maitimo would not be his son if he did not at least try to disobey his ruling. But they would see who had the greater will.

* * *

Finwë was standing outside Fëanáro's study. He had been pacing, but had stopped upon the door opening.

His anger and shock seemed to have abated. Instead, the king looked unhappy and sad when he asked Maitimo:

"Why could you not have chosen someone else?"

"We do not choose who we love. Our hearts choose for us," Maitimo merely answered.

"Sometimes, our hearts are wrong."

"Not in this case. Have you ever known me to make a decision lightly?"

No, Maitimo did indeed not make his decisions without carefully thinking them over.

"It is not our way," Finwë argued.

"If Eru created the Valar as equal and siblings to each other, then those of them who chose a spouse amongst their kind defy our customs more than I do." He bowed. "Now please excuse me, sire."

He did not wait for an answer.

* * *

"I don't understand you, brother," Morifinwë said. He tried to hide it, but Maedhros could see the tinge of disgust in his expression.

"You wouldn't."

"I mean, he's our cousin! Of all the elves you could have picked - and I'm including the ellon! - you had to pick Findekáno. Why?"

Maitimo heaved an annoyed sigh. "I don't need you to understand. I don't even need you to accept it. In fact, I'd prefer it if we didn't even try to speak about it."

The redhead's sword cut an elegant arc through the air until Morifinwë intercepted it with his own blade.

"Fine by me," his brother said, but it was grim.

Morifinwë attacked.

* * *

They found ways to see each other. Usually during the darkest of nights, if Fëanáro was not lingering in his forge or Finwë wandering sleeplessly through the corridors. They had to be careful, as exhausted horses would warn Turukano or the Ambarussa. They did not have the luxury of beds, and were instead forced to seek protected clearings in the forest. They were not free to choose their time and often found themselves waiting in vain for a lover who could not come as promised. But they endured.

* * *

In one thing Maitimo and Findekáno's illicit relationship found a purpose: Fëanáro and Nolofinwë agreed that the relationship between their sons was not proper. Before long, they reconciled, and Nolofinwë promised to aid his eldest brother against any and all foes.

Sooner than anyone could have expected, time called for that promise to be fulfilled. Finwë fell, the Silmarils were stolen and Fëanáro and his sons swore an oath. Blood was shed, ships were stolen, and the host around Fëanáro crossed to Ennor.

But once they had arrived, Fëanáro did not send the ships back to collect his brother's people. He ordered the vessels burnt while he turned to his eldest son and said:

"I know your weakness, Nelyafinwë. You would defy my command, and if he stays where he is now, you will not have the chance. He and my brother are weak-minded compared to us. They cannot help us against Morgoth. But you, Nelya, you must be strong; do not disappoint me again in this, for I will not allow it."

Maitimo mutely turned away and watched the flames lick hungrily at the wood, rendering it to ashes.


End file.
